


A Crime of Passion

by Incessant_Darkness



Series: The Rules of the Game [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Police AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incessant_Darkness/pseuds/Incessant_Darkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight, Tsukishima realises he probably should have laid down some ground rules before allowing Kuroo to waltz into his life and make himself comfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Crime of Passion

**Author's Note:**

> Tsukishima and Kuroo's relationship had only progressed to the not entirely unlikely stage of mutually beneficial sex when Kuroo's transgressions on a past case were discovered, putting him under threat of losing his job. Tsukishima- a police psychologist initially based out of Miyagi- was able to pull a few strings and get Kuroo a transfer in place of a sacking. What Tsukishima hadn't anticipated was how much of a disruption to his life Kuroo would turn out to be.

 

 

There is a glorious luxury that Tsukishima finds in a set of good sheets. It’s in the way they caress the skin in a constant gentle reminder of money well spent. Tsukishima is never more aware of it than a moment like now, when the sheet is resting against his lower back, riding down like a lover’s touch. Naturally, Kuroo has a habit of choosing such a moment to remind him of just how ungentle a lover he makes and Tsukishima ends up hissing through his teeth at the sensation of Kuroo’s fingers wrenching at his hair.

 

“Yeah, there Kei, come on.” Arching his hips Kuroo tugs harder at his hair as if he’s mistaken Tsukishima for a particularly stubborn horse. Which upon reflection is not too far off the mark but then Tsukishima isn’t sure what tugging at the mane of a horse is going accomplish outside of irritating it.

 

Still, there is more to love about Kuroo in bed than to hate. It’s fortunate because it makes falling into bed with Kuroo all too easy, which for Tsukishima at least makes it more appealing. Enough so that he doesn’t mind injecting a little more effort into each thrust in spite of the fact that it leaves him dripping with sweat, making his preciously expensive sheets stick to his skin in ways that are all manner of uncomfortable. That added bit of effort makes its mark though, in the form of Kuroo nearly biting through his bottom lip beneath an assault of particularly well aimed thrusts. And when Kuroo’s fingers finally release Tsukishima’s hair his arms drop down to grab the railings of the headboard instead in a desperate attempt to gain more leverage.

 

It all falls together to paint a very distinct picture indeed. Kuroo’s hair is splayed ink against pure white pillows. His abdomen flexes, showing his every muscle in sharp relief; his whole body ripples with a thrumming tension as he impales himself further on the hard length that is already nearly balls deep inside his ass. Tsukishima loves seeing Kuroo like this. It drives him a little bit mad.

 

And Kuroo knows it. There is no doubt in Tsukishima’s mind that he knows it.

 

Embarrassingly enough, in spite of the mental advantage afforded to him as a practicing psychologist, Kuroo—a mere beat cop—has proven himself overwhelmingly adept at wriggling under Tsukishima’s skin and pressing all the right buttons more often than not.

 

For instance, the way Kuroo strains to push up with only the tips of his toes left to dig into the bed, posing his knees such that they knock up against Tsukishima’s elbows; it is a purposeful demonstration of the fact that Kuroo is just as tall as he is. And for Tsukishima—who has always contented himself with far smaller partners—it is maddeningly intoxicating.

 

That isn’t the half of it of course.

 

It is an amalgam of small, indistinct elements that twist together to form the perfect storm. It’s the thrill of not knowing if he will end up on his back with Kuroo pounding into him or be railing Kuroo so hard the entire architecture of the bedroom is wont to shift—like now—or some exhausting combination of the two.

 

On the brink, Kuroo reaches down to his own dick, stroking vigorously, his jaw clenching with exertion and sheer focus as he rides the thin line between climax and release. The moment Tsukishima lets his hand join Kuroo’s the delicate balance snaps like an overwrought bowstring and Kuroo spills himself over both their fingers and his own stomach besides. It leaves him pliable and content to take the punishment of Tsukishima gripping his ass to bend him near double, thrusting with increasing, erratic force into Kuroo’s insides until he is coming with an unnecessarily bitten back noise of completion.

 

For long moments Tsukishima remains between Kuroo’s legs, letting the world outside of their rampant rutting settle back against his glistening skin until finally an irritated shift of Kuroo’s hips prompts him to move out. Before he can escape too far Kuroo catches him by the hair, putting a reminder of the sting back into his tortured roots and drags him into a lavish kiss.

 

Afterwards when Kuroo’s arm tries to snake around his waist, Tsukishima pulls away to the far end of the bed. “You were on your way to the shower.” Tsukishima reminds him, and his eyes catch the trail made by Kuroo’s discarded uniform leading from just outside the bathroom door to the bed. Admittedly, Tsukishima had been the one to waylay Kuroo on his way to the shower. But having accomplished what he’s set out to do, he sees no point in delaying the pursuit of cleanliness any longer.

 

“Join me?”

 

It’s a pointless request that Tsukishima denies as always and Kuroo sighs, slinking off to the shower without complaint. Once the bathroom door is shut, Tsukishima swings out of bed and scoops up Kuroo’s clothes, folding them and placing them on top of the dresser. He rests the gun-belt neatly on top of the pile before finding his way to the guest bathroom. The whole while, he makes a valiant effort at ignoring the prickling indignity of having lost claim to the main bathroom in his own apartment. It is not a battle worth fighting. There are much more worthwhile wars he’s waged though. For one, Kuroo has admitted to loving the smell of sex on him, and never minds falling asleep in a tangled mess of sweaty limbs. Tsukishima cannot abide by it. They’ve come to a tender compromise that is braided so intrinsically into their ever-changing power balance that even Tsukishima has trouble making heads or tails of it—though usually if he’s on top he can count on being able to wheedle Kuroo into taking a shower afterwards. Unfortunately the reverse holds true as well.

 

It is surprising to Tsukishima that he doesn’t feel any unnecessary grief at the compromise when the very idea of resting while still filthy from sex has always offended him on some deeply intolerable level.

 

It has something to do with the fact that Kuroo indulges him, Tsukishima concludes, laying between sheets that remind him of everything that has happened that evening in that bed, waiting for Kuroo to return from his habitually overlong shower.

 

There is the vaguest hint of a limp in Kuroo’s step as he enters, buck-naked, running a towel through his hair in an effort to make it passably dry. The limp will be gone by morning but sometimes Kuroo is not above playing it up because it’s in his nature to be an insufferable tease. And because Tsukishima is the last person to let himself be teased, more often than not the limp is a self-perpetuating cycle. Until, that is, the balance between them shifts and Tsukishima finds himself unexpectedly on his back, or stomach, or bent over the couch.

 

“Are you going to share your dirty thoughts with me?” Kuroo’s voice interrupts his musings with the clarity of liquid sugar, sweet and honey-thick.

 

Cocking his head to one side Tsukishima passes on feigning offense to skip straight to the point. “How did you know?” Kuroo has always professed that he is terribly poor at reading Tsukishima’s expressions and even if that is only a salesman’s pitch for humbleness, he doesn’t think he’s being particularly obvious in this instance.

 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “Your dick is hard.” Tsukishima fights off a telling blush but there’s nothing to be done for the smug little smile on Kuroo’s face. It’s more privately self-assured than his usual number but ten times as painful to be on the receiving end of because Tsukishima knows he deserves it.

 

“How was your first day on the job?” Tsukishima prays that Kuroo will allow the change of subject. Climbing into bed, Kuroo wraps around him with a satisfied groan and lets his altruism shine by graciously discarding the topic of Tsukishima’s erection.

 

“Quiet. Not exactly what I’m used to.”

 

“After Tokyo, Miyagi must lack a certain expectation of excitement.” Tsukishima infers, saving Kuroo the trouble of putting words to the feeling of disappointment he undoubtedly feels at his untimely demotion. A soft nod makes itself known against the back of his neck and Tsukishima knows to leave his perceptions about his lover at that.

 

The smell of Kuroo’s soap and shampoo settles comfortably in Tsukishima’s lungs, taking the edge off the less comforting sensation of Kuroo idly tracing the shell of his ear with a finger. It is an infuriating habit, but they are clean at his insistence so he allows Kuroo the luxury. Before he speaks Kuroo clears his throat. It draws Tsukishima’s attention to him in its entirety.

 

“Thanks, for getting me this transfer. I know you burned a lot of favours.”

 

“It was harder having to find space for your partner too. He didn’t need to leave.” Tsukishima is careful to sound practical as opposed to accusing. Kenma is still a touchy subject between them.

 

“He felt guilty that I was losing my job on his behalf.” Kuroo explains as if it is obvious, and Tsukishima is a fool for not seeing it, which perhaps he is in this instance.

 

“You’re just lucky I happened to have connections here in Miyagi.”

 

“That’s not the only way I’m lucky.” Kuroo drawls the seriousness dropping from his demeanor for a less vulnerable affectation. His thighs push tight against Tsukishima’s rear, plainly suggestive. Shoving Kuroo’s insufferably smug expression away from his face Tsukishima turns to glare.

 

“When are you going to find a place of your own to live?”

 

If Kuroo is taken aback by the sudden change of mood he doesn’t show it. “This is fine isn’t?”

 

“No.” Tsukishima is flat in his refusal.

 

“What? Why not? Sex on tap! It’s why you saved my ass to begin with isn’t it? Unless that was a lie…” The suggestive wriggling of Kuroo’s eyebrows does nothing to ingratiate Tsukishima to his point.

 

“I have no issue with the sex. Your living here is quite the opposite.” In spite of his irritation, it is a half-hearted complaint and Tsukishima finds it harder than it should be to stand firm behind his point. Back in Tokyo they frequented his apartment much more often than Kuroo’s on account of Kuroo sharing an apartment with Kenma. And it is terrible precedent, Tsukishima knows, that he’s allowed Kuroo to stay with him here in Miyagi until he finds a place of his own.

 

“What about Kenma?” Tsukishima asks, hoping to derail the inevitable conclusion of Kuroo taking up permanent residence in his bed. Though really there are worse places for Kuroo to be, the kitchen for one as Tsukishima has quickly discovered.

 

“It turns out he knows Hinata Shouyo pretty well.” Kuroo reaches out and twirls a few locks of hair into a persistent curl against Tsukishima’s forehead and he resists the urge to swat away the hand. “Apparently Hinata has a spare room.”

 

In his chest Tsukishima feels his hopes sink like submarine that’s been introduced to the business end of a torpedo. “You are not moving in here.”

 

Kuroo places his lips to Tsukishima’s throat and he does not resist which he knows Kuroo will take as a victory. Turning, Tsukishima fixes him with an unmoved glare. “I mean it. I will put you out on your ass if you don’t find a place by the end of the week.”

 

Kuroo doesn’t. And Tsukishima is true to his word.

 

Which Tsukishima counts as an ample enough showing of his conviction when he finds out Kuroo is sleeping on a couch at Hinata’s place, and allows himself the lapse in judgment of taking Kuroo back in.

 

“Admit it, you like having me here.” Kuroo teases that night. The fact that the taunt is spoken against the pale cream flesh of Tsukishima’s thighs helps him swallow it without retort. It also helps that Kuroo is swallowing his dick before he can come up with a believable denial.

 

“This isn’t permanent.” It’s easier to find the words afterwards, once he’s had time to recover. Kuroo smells of sweat and sex and is pressed hot against his back and is busy nibbling a bruise into his shoulder, happy as a cat with cream. “You need to find your own place.”

 

It’s a testament to Kuroo’s sensibilities that he knows where to draw the line. “I will. Soon.” It isn’t an empty promise and that alone gives Tsukishima the room he needs to breathe. “Even if it’s a waste of money seeing as I’ll be spending more time here than there.”

 

Sighing, Tsukishima turns around and kisses him half-way to asphyxiation just to shut him up and pointedly ignores the fact that Kuroo is more right than wrong.


End file.
